


Sex and Violence

by Jackdaw816



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: They're dysfunctional, but they like it that way
Relationships: Jack Harkness/John Hart
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Sex and Violence

John’s hands ached, the tissue bruised, the delicate bones fractured. Proper technique had been lost in his rage. He took a breath in, trying not to wince at how much the simple action stung. Jack had fought back, and his blows had landed hard. Pity for him that John’s had landed harder. He lay crumpled at John’s feet, broken nose dripping blood onto the leather of his boots. John had won. Not in the way he’d wanted to, but he’d won. A shame he didn’t feel particularly victorious. Jack gasped back to life, and John kicked him away. Round two.

* * *

John always kissed like a punch, but this time was different. He was gentle, tender even. Jack grew irritated and pushed him away.

“What?” John complained. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind?” Jack shook his head. “So what?” Jack grabbed John by his jacket and pushed him up against the wall of his ship.

“I don’t need you to be soft,” Jack whispered fiercely. “I need you to fight.” He leaned in closer and nipped John’s ear. “I need you to hurt me.” _I need to forget him._ John’s nails raked over his chest.

“As you wish,” he murmured.

* * *

The leather of Jack’s belt bit against the exposed skin of John’s throat. He would have laughed if he had the air. He couldn’t get Jack to love him, but by god, he could get him to hate him. And he would take what he could get. Hate sex was always fun after all.

“Go on then, lover,” John spat the second Jack loosened the makeshift garrote. “Do your worst.” He could take it. Couldn’t get any worse than this, after all. Jack so close and yet so far. The leather was pulled taut and John sought his oblivion willingly.

* * *

John may have started the fight, but Jack had ended it. He swept aside the shattered glass and pushed John up against the bar.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” John purred breathlessly. Jack chose not to dignify the question with an actual response and kissed him hard instead. He tasted blood, likely John’s. It had the tang of something foul, something tainted. John couldn’t stay sober if he tried. But it seemed like Jack had an addiction of his own he had yet to shake. Was fending him off really worth the effort?

* * *

Technically, he’d survived the crash, John mused, looking down at the large fragment of debris impaling his abdomen. Not that he’d be living much longer. Jack was strapped into the co-pilot’s chair beside him, mercifully dead - his legs were practically a pretzel. John tried to laugh, but it came up bloody.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me when you wake up,” John murmured, reaching out to stroke a hand through Jack’s hair. “Assuming I’m not dead already.” Part of him - the part of him that wasn’t entirely selfish - worried about Jack. He’d be alone again. “I’ll see you in hell.”


End file.
